


Tuukka Hates the Habs

by shakeitout



Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Boston Bruins, Bruins, Habs, Hockey, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, NHL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:57:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakeitout/pseuds/shakeitout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I asked for a prompt on Tumblr and this is what happened. Sorry that it's awful, but I promised I'd post it. I also said it would be 1,000 words. Well, I'm a dirty liar who lies so here's a Top!Segs just as requested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tuukka Hates the Habs

            Nights like tonight had happened before, mainly because Tuukka Rask had a temper. Correction: Tuukka Rask still **has** a temper. Tuukka knew this; he knew that he had almost no control over his emotions. The Fin was an open book when it came to his game-related feelings, but only his game-related ones.

 

            Tuukka tried not to be like all of the other goalies; he tried hard to break the “goalies are weird” stereotype, but sometimes he just needed his space. If the guys went out, he went out. If the guys were drunk, he was drunk. Shit, the party was in his room the majority of the time now that he thought about it. He really tried to be normal, but sometimes he just needed a breather from the constant movement of a hockey player’s life. After bad losses was usually when he needed that room to breathe. Tonight was a bad loss. It was a terrible loss. Then he fell. God, he fell and he felt so stupid when he walked down the tunnel. He didn’t even break his stick when he hit it against the boards, so he just snapped it over his knee when he got into the locker room. Tonight was such a fucking bad loss.

            Tuukka just sat in his stall and stared blankly at the wall, all of his pads still on, only his helmet removed. They guys would rest their hand on his shoulder as they walked by, silent signs of comfort. “It wasn’t a goal,” or “That call was bullshit,” were the words of ease they offered the fuming goaltender. “I know, I know,” Tuukka would respond with his teeth gritted. Tuukka has his own separate apartments and hotel rooms for a reason, because goalies needed space sometimes. On nights like this, it was better to just let them be.

 

After heaving himself off the bench, he began to undress and get ready for a long hot shower once he knew the locker room had finally cleared out. He stripped his pads and skates, then his uniform and under clothes, walking to the showers completely naked, knowing the locker room was empty and he wouldn’t have to hear any friendly chirping about how skinny he was. Then again, who would be willing to chirp at Tuukka after tonight? Nobody who valued their life, that was for sure. “Finally alone,” or so Tuukka thought. It was then, as he turned the corner toward the showers, that he ran smack dab into an equally naked Tyler Seguin.

            “Oh shit! Tyler, I’m sorry!”

            “Nah, Tuuks, it’s my bad, man. I didn’t think anyone was still here,” Tyler explained. He made no moves to cover himself up, nor did Tuukka. Despite being called “skinny” or “thin for a goalie,” Tuukka had no self-esteem issues about any part of his body. Clearly, based on the way he proudly displayed his toned figure, Tyler didn’t have self-doubt issues either.

“Yeah, well I’m gunna shower.”

“Alright, dude. I’ll see you at skate tomorrow.” With that, Tyler moved to walk back to his stall and change when suddenly he stopped and asked, “You gunna be alright, man?”

“Yeah, I just hate shootouts. And losing. And the fucking Habs. It all just blows so much. I probably shouldn’t have thrown a fit like that but I was just so fucking pissed. I’m still pissed. Coach will probably start Dobby next game now.”

            “Dude, that’s not true. And we all fucked up. It wasn’t your fault. It shouldn’t have even had to go to a shootout in the first place. We let up, thinking we had it in the bag and they fuckin’ scored with eight seconds left. Shit happens, Tuuks. Gotta get ‘em in the playoffs now.” Tuukka couldn’t help but to notice how the thick chords of muscle in Tyler’s arms and chest rippled as he patted the goalie on the back.

            “You’re right, Segs,” Tuukka sighed. “You’re right. Thanks for calming me down. I acted like a total dickhead out there.”

            “Any time, man. It happens to the best of us. Just uhh, keep your head up.” Tuukka noticed that Tyler had been looking him up and down multiple times during their exchange. He would be lying if he said he didn’t secretly like that the younger player was checking him out; it was a confidence boost if nothing else.

            “I’m assuming you’re not going out with everyone else?” Tuukka asked.

            “Nah, needed a night in to myself. You wanna hang instead? We don’t have skate until late tomorrow.” Wow, the lady-killing Tyler Seguin asking Tuukka Rask to come over instead of going to the bar? He really isn’t going out then. Tuukka couldn’t believe that this was actually happening.

            “I…uh…Yeah, I’m just gunna shower quick and then I’ll come over.”

            “Sounds good. You know where my place is, right? Just text me when you get there, I’ll buzz you in.”

 

…

A short while later Tuukka was standing in front of Tyler Seguin’s apartment front door, feeling like a teenager on a first date. Tuukka had always found Tyler oddly alluring. He had been around the NHL long enough to know that the guys on a team as close as the Bruins hooked up with each other sometimes. Shit, he was a goalie, and that meant that had a “strong bond” with a lot of fellow goalies in the past, (maybe that was why everyone thought goalies were weird…because they always hung out and hooked up with other goalies…) but it was nothing more than a lingering make out on the adrenaline high of a good win. He wasn’t gay, he just found Tyler attractive. Or that was what he had told himself, anyway…not that it really mattered in the end.

 

Finally, he got the courage to text Segs a simple “Here” and knocked softly on the door. Tyler, who was clad except for a pxair of gray sweatpants, padded barefoot to the door. Right as the stepped through the threshold, a furry brown blob that seemed to be the famous Marshall, the puppy licking the new visitor right away, greeted Tuukka. He dropped onto one knee and began to pet Tyler’s famed chocolate lab.

“You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?” Tuukka asked in the voice he specifically reserved for animals and babies.

“He’s a little shit, but I love him to death,” Tyler admitted like a proud parent. “You want a beer?” Tuukka gladly accepted.

 

Several beers later, they were both sufficiently drunk and babbling about God only knows what to each other. Marshall had long since put himself to bed in his crate and time seemed to have stopped until Tuukka looked at the clock. “Two A.M.?” he asked aloud. “There’s no way I can drive home now.”

“Just crash here, man. You know I got you!” Tyler was no longer slurring his words, probably sobering up a little bit.

Tuukka was just on the good side of buzzed; drunk enough to be a little careless with his words, but sober enough to understand the consequences. “Thanks Segs,” was his only reply. After a long beat of silence he finally asked, “You and Marchand are fucking, aren’t you?” The question must have taken Tyler off guard, because he put down his beer and stared at Rask. “It’s okay if you are. I’d do Marshy, he’s a good looking guy, even with his nose the size of Finland,” Tuukka continued.

“I uhh, yeah Brad’s pretty good looking I guess.”

“So you are fucking?”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“We’ve never had sex, but we have hooked up.”

“I knew it.”

“Yeah, well, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re a goalie, which means you’ve probably had things with other goalies before…because goalies do that. And you look at me like you want to throw me down and fuck me every time we make eye contact. But then you always keep to yourself. What’s your deal, dude?”

Tuukka got very silent and suddenly was too sober for his liking. He also hadn’t noticed his newfound close proximity to Tyler on the couch and was all at once very hyperaware of how deliciously almost-naked Tyler was. “I, uhm. You’re a good-looking guy, Segs. What do you want me to do? Not stare? Isn’t that why you always flaunt your body? So people WILL stare?”

“I flaunt it because I’m proud of my body. But you didn’t seem to be making any moves to cover up today in the locker room.” Tyler licked his lips at the memory.

“Neither did you.”

“I was flaunting,” Tyler admitted.

“Well you’ve certainly got a lot to flaunt, don’t you?”

“Almost as much as you.”

“I knew you were checking me out.”

“You should have made a move. I would have gone with it.”

“Well, I figured after openly staring at your dick that the puck would be in your end of the ice,” Tuukka sassed.

 “Well here’s my pass back to you,” Tyler mused at their corny hockey humor and shoved Tuukka backward so he fell on the couch, crawling over him and slowly pressing their lips together.

 

Tuukka Rask rarely let his brain shut off. He was always thinking, analyzing, calculating. It was how he worked, how he played. When Tyler Seguin kissed him, Tuukka’s brain shut off. They made out lazily for a while, Tyler dominantly biting Tuukka’s lip and licking incessantly into his mouth. Tuukka loved every second of it. Kissing Tyler was free, easy, and took the weight off of his shoulders for once. It was like their make-out was Tyler’s to bear, Tyler’s to control; he responsibility for something finally didn’t fall on Tuukka for once.

As Tyler wedged a knee between the Fin’s thighs Tuukka could help but grind into it a little bit, only suddenly noticing how painstakingly hard he had become.

“I always knew you were a slut for it,” Tyler joked, now nipping at Tuukka’s neck. Tuukka only swore in Finnish as a response. “Tell me what you want, Rask,” the younger man challenged.

“You’re an asshole,” Tuukka murmured while sinking his teeth into Seguin’s naked shoulder, “Bed. Now. And take those damn sweatpants off!” he commanded, attempting to assert his age over the kid, despite the fact that he was practically melting underneath Tyler. Tyler released his hold on the European long enough to get up and walk to the bedroom, shoving Tuukka into walls and kissing him all the way there.

Just as Tyler began shucking off his sweatpants and Tuukka pulled his own t-shirt over his head, Tuukka noticed the lack of underwear on a now officially naked Tyler Seguin.

“No Victoria’ Secret panties?” Tuukka chirped while pulling down his own jeans and boxers.

“Nope.” What a cocky bastard.

“And you call me the slut.”

“Because you are.”

“You love it.” Tyler didn’t respond save for pushing Tuukka back onto his unmade bed and kissing his way down the Fin’s body. Without any warning, Tyler went straight for the gold, licking a line straight down Tuukka’s swelling dick, practically making Tuukka choke on his own breath.

“Jesus, Segs!” Tyler smiled devilishly and didn’t even look up; he just continued to lightly kiss and lick while Tuukka squirmed beneath him.

“Patience is a virtue, Rask.”

“Suck my dick before I punch you, Seguin.” Again, Tyler didn’t respond. Instead, he hollowed out his cheeks and began to take Tuukka down like it was his job. Tuukka was moaning and bucking up into Tyler’s mouth like he hadn’t gotten head in years.

“Segs, awh fuck, Segs, if you don’t stop I’m gunna cum soon.” Tuukka then went on to swear creatively in Finnish. Tyler didn’t let up for a second though, he pinned the goalie’s hips down with his strong hands and swallowed until he had taken all nine inches and his nose was nestled in the soft curls at the base of Tuukka’s cock.

 

Just as Tuukka felt the heat pooling deep in his stomach, just as his vision started to blur, Tyler pulled off, causing Tuukka to literally whine aloud at the loss of contact. Coming back to normal consciousness, Tuukka licked the palm of his stick-hand generously and grabbed Tyler’s cock with it, giving slow lazy strokes and watching the Canidian squirm.

“Feel good, Segs?” Tuukka tightened his grip, causing Tyler to groan curses hotly into his goalie’s ear. That was the end of Tuukka’s topping though, because Tyler was scarily close to coming already.

“Tuuks, I’m not gunna last much longer. Awh, yeah, like that,” Tyler groaned as Tuukka swiped his thumb over the head of Tyler’s cock with one hand and gently cradled his balls with another. Tyler seriously considered the idea of fucking Tuukka for a second, but then he realized that he wasn’t going to last another minute and a half, never mind hold out long enough to finger the skinnier man open. So, instead, he reached into the nightstand drawer and grabbed a small bottle of lube that he kept in there, you know…just in case. Tuukka stopped jacking Tyler off long enough to see Tyler put a liberal amount on his huge, calloused hand and grab both of their cocks with it, stroking long and unhurried. The friction was so amazing that Tuukka almost came on the spot.

“Fuck yeah, Segs. Faster, come on.”

“Yeah, Tuuks. Want you to come first. Wanna watch you.” Tyler began jacking his fist faster, swiping his thumb over the heads of their leaking cocks at the top of every stroke.

“Goddamn it!” More Finnish curses, “I, ahh, so close Tyler. Fuck fuck fuck!” Tyler used his spare hand to push on that sensitive area right behind Tuukka’s balls and that was it. With a strangled cry and a deep, Finnish accented version of Tyler’s name, Tuukka stiffened and shook with his orgasm, Tyler stroking him through it all the way.

Just watching Tuukka come was enough. Tyler felt the heat building in his gut again along with the tightening in his balls, letting him know that he was about to blow.

“Cum in my mouth, Tyler, come on fuck my throat.” Tyler didn’t need to be told twice. It only took two or three strokes into Tuukka’s wet heat for Tyler to shoot his load deep down the back of the goalie’s throat, moaning through the most euphoric orgasm he had ever experienced.

 

Tuukka’s come now sticky between them, they collapsed back onto Tyler huge bed, the sheets, and comforter having long since fallen onto the floor. Tyler used the corner of the sheets to wipe up the majority of the mess.

After a moment of rest and coming back down to Earth, the goalie made his move for the awkward post-hook-up escape when Tyler grabbed his thin, yet strong forearm and just said, “Stay.” And so Tuukka stayed.


End file.
